User blog comment:Biggren/The Northern March Original/@comment-3135907-20190617022808/@comment-2246928-20190617023608

Serrano gazed in awe at the marriage of death and chaos that surrounded him from his spot in the greenery. Then, realizing that his fortune might have finally changed for the better, the fox drew his sword and leapt to his feet, tripping up a Painted One as he did and driving his blade through the rat's throat. He yanked the blade out and rounded on another, dodging a savage swipe of its primitive weapon and cutting it down with a swift swipe. He didn't speak, merely concentrating on surviving the battle, while, whenever he could manage it without too much risk, casting cautious and inquisitive glances towards the big searat with the crossbow over its shoulder.

He would find out just who that was soon enough. He hoped he didn't have to fight him next- all this running and slaying had really started to put a strain on his muscles and energy.